The demise had been a long hard battle. They had gotten separated somehow and Xevon couldn't even remember her name. She had gone somewhere and he had gone the other way. No--no. Xevon had told her to run, to find the cellar door and he would play hide and seek with the god. If he could keep him on his toes long enough... she would get free.

He was wrong. Clearly wrong. His eyes were glazed, a matte red, hair gone in chunks. Part of his jaw was simply just gone, as was his right arm at the shoulder, left at the elbow. The wings were ragged and tattered, feathers missing at every angle.

At least they complied with his request to not look at him.

"Don't be sorry," Xevon whispered quietly, "you are helping."

Finn lifted his hands up in some defensive and some surrender. "That's--not what I meant!" He protested weakly. "I mean... heal? Help...? I mean, you know, help somewhere with this?" He gestured to the gaping hole and then to Callisto's wound. "We're going to have to accept our fate as being here and figure it out step by step. But you guys are our ticket out. You know stuff and so we need you to stick around. Is there a way to help get you two back to your whole self?"

Xevon's eyes were closed, but open. He wasn't seeing much at that point in time but he was listening.

"... I don't actually know," he finally said. "It's always just been... Callisto doing it. I don't believe the living can."

Finn finally nodded, accepting the answer from the other ghost. It was best if they didn't do anything too risky, especially with... everything going on. At the least, it looked like they were used to this kind of thing. Which was not what Finn liked to imagine. That was not the type of scenario that seemed ideal. But even despite the ire--and perhaps the long odds that the ghostly pair had, there was a sense of bond that stayed between the two.

Finn's eyes slid over, unable to help himself. But it wasn't to linger on Xevon at all, no, it was to watch Callisto's movement. The way his fingers ever so gently brushed the other's dark hair up from his eyes, hovering just a bit before he moved on.

That told him a lot without words. Perhaps... they ... well, they didn't seem like the type to be in a set relationship just yet. Close friends at the most. But Finn could, potentially, see them getting closer. But it was probably the darker ghost that held off. Oh, that definitely made sense.

Finn looked back at the dagger in his hand. He tilted his head for a moment, testing the weight of the weapon for a moment. It felt like the type of thing he could absolutely just chuck at Mach-E at something. It was a good weight but the weight was a balanced, solid, spread. It was easy to hold and the blade felt sharp.

He ran the edge over his thumb, carefully picking at it to test the sharpness.

"These feel like they could do a considerable amount of damage," Finn mused slowly, glancing upward toward the ceiling. "But, and pardon me for asking, they don't seem to be... enough."

Xevon let out a small noise--perhaps a faint chuckling sigh. "That's because they aren't. Those daggers are only part of what you need," his red gaze turned to Callisto, silently asking if he wanted to explain what else they needed or if he should. Not that he really remembered much. Existing after such an ordeal was difficult. It was likely that he would tuck himself into the locket at some point to continue healing.

Callisto remained observing the man beside him, hyper aware of his condition and ready to move if he began to falter even further. At the sound of Finntello’s comment, he pressed his hands together tightly, catching the look that Xevon had administered to him.

“No, they’re not enough on their own.” He took in a deep breath before he pushed it out through his nose, turning his head reluctantly away from Xevon in order to meet the living man’s eyes. “For now, just worry about not losing those or the talismans. You will need them.” He lifted a hand and waved it towards the dagger that Lily had just lifted from the floor. “And don’t cut yourselves with them, we do not exactly have any decent medical supplies here.”

As Callisto finished his sentence, Lily had leaned and grasped one of the blades in her hand. As it turned in her palm and the light caught the metal, her head was rocked with a sharp pain. A hushed gasp escaping her lips, almost dropping the dagger as images flashed before her eyes.

She had seen them before. After that dark hallway. Someone…a woman, the woman who had spoken before, they had drawn the near identical dagger across Lily’s palms. Reliving the hot pain of the slash, the woman had pushed her hands together, feeling the hot stickiness of her own blood between her palms. Then the woman began to chant, something she couldn’t understand but it sounded so familiar.

In the seconds it took Lily to pick up the dagger and be rocked by her memories, the poor woman had slipped the blade from her palm and the sharp tip had grazed the meat of her thumb, drawing forth a small welling of blood. As the metal object fell back to the ground with a dull thud, the hazed look in her eyes cleared and she whipped her head around to look at Finn. The same fear shining in her eyes as when she woke from her dream, but this time only her chest betrayed her panic, quickening in its pace.

“I’ve seen them, used them before.” A drop of blood slipped from her hand and she looked down in surprise, using her other hand to press on the small nick. “I-I mean, not these exactly, but they’re so similar.” Lily’s head shook as she tried to explain what she had just uncovered, still pressing her palm, she carefully rose to her full height and looked to Callisto. Whose now harsh again gaze rested firmly on her once more.

“I told you to be careful.” He huffed out, whilst he did find her words intriguing, the storm in him was only being held at bay by his strict self control. “Talk to him about it.” With a dismissive wave towards Finntello, Callisto rounded himself back to Xevon. His back half towards the living pair now, the sharpness in his eyes flickering out as he once again exposed himself to the remnant form of Xevon.

“And I told you not to throw yourself at him.” Whilst his words were stern in nature, the tone they carried was simply concerned, lacking the abrasive clipped ending of his previous scolding for the same behaviour. “How long will you need?” Slowly, he tilted his head to the side as he spoke. He wanted to help more but there was quite literally nothing he could do now, his friend would just have to wait to recover.

Xevon let out a small sigh and shook his head lightly. "No, it's recommended not to cut yourself with it. That's for sure," but he didn't comment that it was likely that the blades had already tasted their blood. It was bound to come to their memory at some point.

It was the point in which the woman had just simply grabbed it. Just lifted the blade up into her palm that she gasped and nearly dropped it. That was far quicker than he expected but nonetheless, it was welcomed. It meant that she was going to see what had likely been the start of the whole thing.

His lips twitched, as did his shoulder, as if he were trying to catch the blade from her hands. It took a bit of effort before he let his comely appearance ripple over the remnant and husk. He was... far smaller, almost half his size but looked far better than before.

"I couldn't help myself," Xevon replied, weakly. "I.... I held back as much as I could but ... but good gracious, Callisto, I couldn't handle it when he tore into you. I can handle it--I can take it but I can't take it when... when it's you," his voice drew quiet and reluctant. He hadn't really meant to admit most of that but it had just tumbled out of his lips, like sand through an hourglass. It was only a matter of time before it all came out.

Finn tilted his head lightly, studying the blade. He didn't quite recognize it. He waited, patiently, for memories to hit him or something or anything.

Instead, he found himself slowly seeing the memories. As if these were not things that they wanted to see. It was not as sharp, not as bold or as dramatic. But he could see the dagger. He could feel it in his hands. They were telling him to do something, chanting. The fuzzy figure in front of him and a darker crusty woman beside him.

He could see his hand testing the weight of the dagger, her praise that sent chills down his spine.

They wanted him to do something to that pale figure and instead, he flipped the dagger and drove it into the woman beside him.

Finn's vision slowly cleared as he leaned back from looking at his hands.

"... no, no, no you're absolutely right," Finn said slowly, lifting one hand up. "And I think you're here to be a bride. I'm here because I messed up their little ritual. Or killed some creepy old lady. I can't tell which. Maybe both."

The young man shook his head lightly as she mentioned--questioned--anyone being a bride for whatever was out there. "Probably unwillingly," he mused dryly and shook his head again.

He hesitated for a long moment, silent for a couple of seconds. She had far more memories than he did and the most he had were old memories of weirdly old stuff and a dog. Oh, and the stabbing of a crusty old lady next to him. That was not exactly the most coherent set of events to go off of considering everything.

"I would love to confirm that I was there," he said briefly, eyes blinking a couple times with surprise. "But I'm going to be entirely honest, I have no clue. I don't even know why I'm here-here," he gestured to the room. "You're a bride, they're dead and I'm... here. I ... yeah. That's going to make total sense later, I'm sure but right now... I'm the odd one out."

Finn's voice lifted in a loose laugh and he shook his head slowly, swinging it from side to side. "Ahh, lovely. Who knows, maybe we're the ones to escape."

The daunting task of taking on whatever was out there was a chilling concept. The type of "absolutely not" concept that Finn shied away from internally and likely physically, considering the room fiasco. The young man exhaled and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I'm exhausted. But surprisingly, I'm not hungry." He hadn't been for a while. Which was strange but perhaps one of those 'fancy magic' things on the hotel.

Xevon's red eyes lifted up toward the other ghost, watching him for a moment or two. He didn't think he could accurately explain how he felt toward the other trapped figure. Xevon nearly leaned into his touch, relishing the feeling of his gentle fingers combing through his dark hair.

"No," he whispered, taking hold of Callisto's arms. "Whatever you went through it was worse than mine. I can not let you live through that. I can take this, I am a ... a Wraith. As long as my fury burns, it fuels me. I can not let you know how you died--that's not fair to you or your mind, Callisto."

His eyes flashed with a brief fire. "I know you can fight back, I know you want to. But right now, we have to wait on that. We can't let our plan shift yet. We have to make him think that we're just doing the same things over and over again. I throw myself at him, we shake him up, we both part ways to lick wounds," his hand drifted down to start working at Callisto's side.

"You're not used to this type of injury, but I am," Xevon continued. "It won't kill me but it'll definitely hurt you. I can shut down, be numb, but you can't. You don't have that switch on and off. Besides, someone has to be in one piece to show those two numbskulls around," he murmured. "You're far more patient than I am," he pulled a tendril away from the wound. "Usually."